


Recovery

by Kairosclerosis



Series: Burning Hearts [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Arsonist!Sam, Boys Kissing Boys, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mafia AU, Past Relationship(s), arsonism, mafia, past sleeping around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairosclerosis/pseuds/Kairosclerosis
Summary: Part two of the Burning Hearts series.Sam has to learn how to do it all again--how to love, how to live, how to heal. He just wants to do it with Charles.





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> It took me forever, but I'm updating this series today! I'm probably going to end up posting around two or three new parts in the next twenty four hours. 
> 
> Hope everyone (that reads this incredibly obscure ship) enjoys! 
> 
> Also, don't read this if you haven't read part one! It won't make sense.

Charles had to keep reminding himself that it would take time. 

It would take time for Sam to trust him, to hold his hand without flinching away, to meet his gaze without glancing to the ground. 

It had only been a week since they had kissed, and the mafia boss was desperately trying to claw his way back into the arsonists life. It was working, a bit. Sam had let him come to dinner, had even let Charles make him a salad. He'd only taken a few bites, but it was a start. 

Everything was a start. They had to start completely over. 

It would've been tedious, if not for how much Sam had changed. Every time Charles ran his hands up the man's sides he could feel how much smaller he was, every individual bump of his ribs, how his hands could almost span the width of his entire waist. There was that look in his eyes too, that look that made Charles feel horrible. It was a flicker of distrust, and sometimes tears glistening in Sam's eyes that Charles couldn't kiss away. 

They never fell, though. The night they had kissed the smaller man had clung to Charles, sobbing, but since then he hadn't let himself cry once. It was concerning, especially considering Samuel Seabury was supposed to be the biggest crybaby Charles Lee knew. 

He was supposed to smile and laugh all the time. 

He was supposed to curl into Charles' arms, not roll to the other side of the bed. 

At first he hadn't understood. Was Sam mad at him still? It didn't seem logical, but the way the man evaded his grasp every time he attempted to hold him, to kiss him, to get intimate... It screamed of anger, frustration that he wouldn't let himself express.

Of course, it hadn't been any of that. 

It was a late night when Charles finally asked, a hand cupping Sam's cheek, almost two weeks after their kiss. 

Sam's eyes had immediately flickered away, and he had almost left their bed. But then, instead, like a miracle, he snuggled into Charles instead, and in a small voice admitted: 

"I let them touch me, fuck me, do whatever they wanted with me. Whoever. Whenever. I don't... I don't deserve you to touch me. I'm not clean. It's my own fault, but-"

Charles had interrupted that nonsense with a passionate kiss, pinning Sam back against the pillows, throat full of repulsion at that suggestion. Sam, his Sammy, he could never be unclean. The very idea was preposterous. 

That night he convinced Sam he was wrong through gentle touches, licks, kisses everywhere he could get his hands and mouth, reverently worshipping the other's body. 

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled along the smooth expanse of Sam's stomach, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, filled with guilt over the years he had made his darling wait, because of a refusal to communicate, a stubborn fear, a hasty decision. 

Sam just wound his hands into Charles' hair, pulling him up for a gentle kiss, smoothing away his worry lines with delicate hands. 

~•~

They had to talk about it eventually, of course. 

"You left me."

"I didn't know who you were. I couldn't risk my life, my partner's lives."

"You left me without a word, you took your stuff and didn't even ask, you just... Left."

"Sam, I know, I should've-"

"And then I came to you, I offered myself up, and you were still gone. You were there, you were looking at me, talking to me, but you were gone." 

"It wasn't-"

"You let me destroy myself. You didn't care."

"Samuel, don't you dare."

"Then why?"

"It was... Easier."

"Easier?"

"It was easy to convince myself you were a double agent that simply wanted to get information. That way I could hate you instead of miss you, push away my guilt, try to forget."

"I could never forget."

"I said I tried, Sammy. I didn't say it worked."

"I could never stop loving you. Even though I tried. I wanted them to erase you. I was hoping eventually... I wanted to forget too."

"I don't want to forget anymore. Please."

They made love that night, for the first time in years, each clinging to the experience and making new memories, ones they would remember forever. 

~•~ 

Eventually word got around, about the Mafia Boss and his Arsonist. 

There were so many tales about them. About the time Sam was captured by a rival gang, tortured for hours, his beautiful hair sheared off and his chest slashed by so many weapons. About how Charles sent in all of his men, and how that gang completely disappeared. How Charles sat at Sam's bedside for hours, threatening to kill anyone who tried to talk to them. 

They feared Sam too, having heard the stories about him. The arsonist who came in broad daylight, the arsonist who would burn anything and everything in his path. He once burned his way into the most dangerous man's heart in the world, and now no one could get him out. 

They strode into battle together, fierce, striking fear into the hearts of anyone who dared to cross their paths. Their past wounds healed over time, and eventually no one could remember the time before Sam And Charles. They were inseparable, they were beautiful, they were perfect. 

The Mafia Boss would take his Arsonist home every night and lovingly take him apart on his cock, then put him back together with his kisses. There was no one else in the world who dared to touch the Arsonist in that way--they would not only be killed, but killed slowly if they did. 

Some thought that once a rival gang had, had dared to touch the Arsonist, and he had refused to tell his Charles to spare the men. That was the thing about them that was truly terrifying: their kindness. 

It was with a mix of fear and reverence that the pair was viewed. Some loved them, and some were truly terrified. 

They didn't much care either way. 

~•~ 

"Charlie?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Do you love me?"

"More than anything in the world." 

"I love you too."

"I know, darling. I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you go! I'm pretty sure that I've written all I want to write in this series, but leave comments/kudos if you want to see more or if you enjoyed!


End file.
